


Fit for a King

by Clea2011



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon Era, Fae & Fairies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:30:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/pseuds/Clea2011
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is a prize fit for a king.  But the king he was intended for hasn't taken that prize.  When the king of the faeries loses his big-eared, argumentative and troublesome bedmate, he orders his people to find a replacement.  Nobody disobeys Oberon.  Ever. </p><p>But Merlin is Arthur's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fit for a King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gwyllion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllion/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Достойный короля](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5231192) by [imagine_it](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagine_it/pseuds/imagine_it)



> Happy holidays to Gwylliondream! 
> 
> I took your prompt 'The Druid world. A forest scene, where the boys share warmth outdoors with flowers and fairy magic. Bonus for Emrys wearing a pretty flowerful crown.' I think you probably meant just a single scene, but it grew a plot and ran with it and this is what came out. I hope you like it. I guess it's a sort of Midsummer Night's Dream crossover, vaguely. Very vaguely!
> 
> Thanks to D for the superfast beta and cheerleading when I was struggling to finish in time. And thank you to the mods for all their hard work in putting this fest together <3

It all started to go wrong the day that Puck went missing. Fast and mischievous and adorable and annoying… Oberon couldn’t live without him.

Apparently Oberon was an arrogant turnip-head who liked the sound of his own voice far too much, was selfish and lazy and inconsiderate in bed. No, Puck was heading over to Titania’s court and staying there until the king learned some manners. He expected to be there for some time.

“But I’m the king,” Oberon complained indignantly.   “All of these things are central to my nature. The world exists to please me.”

“Nevertheless,” Puck told him. “I’m leaving you.”

And so he did.

“Bring me another!” Oberon ordered no-one in particular. His courtiers stood around, looking at each other worriedly.

“Ah, there is no other,” one of the braver or more foolish sprites informed him. “Puck is Puck.”

“Then find me something better!” Oberon roared. “Create me another! Steal me another! Circle the mortal world a million times if you must. Find me a servant fit for a king, or I will not be pleased.”

And to emphasise his impending displeasure, he turned the hapless sprite into a toad, and sent it waddling away miserably.

“Well?” he demanded, addressing the remaining crowd. “Stand there a moment longer and I will turn you _all_ into toads! Go!”

And so they went.

\---

Gaius looked up as the door to his rooms flew open, and his young ward stomped in.

Merlin looked grumpy and tired, and Gaius just knew that any moment now there was going to be a tirade of complaints about Arthur. There were plenty of people out there who would be glad to be manservant to a king. Merlin, it seemed, was not one of those people.

“I’ve had to clean his boots! All of them! Do you know how many pairs of boots that man owns? Forty-one! Some of them I’m sure he hasn’t ever even worn! And some are so old they fell apart when I tried to clean them! And there were little baby boots, they must have been his when he was a child, and I had to clean those too! And then he told me to get all his armour and polish it again because it wasn’t shiny enough… it _was_ shiny enough! And he wanted a bath… all those steps and…”

Gaius ladled out a bowl of the stew he’d been keeping warm, and brought it over to where Merlin had sat down at the table, and Merlin sighed gratefully.

“Thanks. I’m starving.”

He probably wasn’t, Gaius knew. Arthur tended to hand over some of his own food to Merlin, usually with a caustic comment about Merlin’s stomach rumbling too loudly and disturbing him, but Gaius knew it was just that Arthur was far fonder of Merlin than he’d ever admit.

“So what did you do?” Gaius sat down opposite his ward. “Before he told you to start on the boot-cleaning?”

“Nothing!” Merlin exclaimed indignantly. “Well… I might have made a comment about the speech he’d written and his poor grasp of the need to pause for breath every now and then…”

Gaius raised an eyebrow.

“What? It needed to be pointed out! He might have fainted or something while he was reading it. That would have looked good. Anyway,” he started shovelling in the stew as fast as he could. “I’m off to bed. He’ll probably decide I’ve got to wash every item of clothing he owns tomorrow or something…”

And off he went. Gaius went back to his potions, none too concerned. There would, after all, probably be a similar rant to listen to the following evening.

\---

Arthur was not happy. Merlin had failed to wake him that morning, failed to bring his breakfast, failed to help him dress… Merlin, if he didn’t have a very, very good excuse, would be looking at a morning spent mucking out the stables. All of them.

“Where is he?” Arthur strode into Gaius’ rooms, looking around angrily. It was, after all, most likely that Merlin was still asleep in his bed.

“Good morning to you too, Sire,” Gaius murmured. Arthur glared at him.

“Where’s Merlin?”

“Well, I’ve not seen him this morning. I assumed he’d gone to attend to you before I awoke.”

Arthur strode across the room and up the short flight of steps to Merlin’s room.

“Merlin, you lazy, useless excuse for a servant! If you’re sleeping in again…” Arthur pushed open the door without waiting for a response and strode into Merlin’s room, fully intending tipping him out of bed onto the floor in whatever state of undress Merlin might be in.

Merlin wasn’t there.

Arthur looked around, puzzled. Wary of a trick, he walked over to the bed and kicked the blanket that was half hanging over the side, covering the space under the bed. He expected a squawk of pain and Merlin’s indignant face to appear, from where he was hiding under the bed.

Arthur bent down, and looked, just in case. There was what looked like a large staff under there, and a rotten-looking old pair of boots. And junk. Possibly more junk than Arthur had ever seen in his life, most of it quite unidentifiable. The boots reeked. He stood up quickly. There was nowhere else Merlin could possibly be hiding.

“He’s not here!” he called back to Gaius. “If he’s in the tavern again, you may as well just say. I’m getting used to it.”

The old man shuffled up the stairs and stood in the doorway, looking confused. “But he did come in last night. He was exhausted, said something about cleaning your armour and boots, barely ate any dinner and then went straight up to bed. I could hear him snoring.”

“Well he’s not here now,” Arthur flung back the blankets, just to be absolutely sure, as if Merlin could somehow have flattened himself out and hidden beneath them. “He probably crept out before you woke up. I’m sure I’ll find him passed out in the tavern if I go to look.”

The physician was looking around the room, as if Merlin might magically appear in front of them or something. Ah, but Arthur wasn’t supposed to know about that.

“I’m sure he’s around somewhere. Perhaps he’s down in the kitchens, fetching your breakfast?”

Perhaps he was. Arthur still suspected the tavern.

\---

It wasn’t Puck.

Oberon stared down at the human boy his people had brought him. Dark-haired, slender and fey-looking, with ears so prominent that he could almost have passed for half-faerie. It was a pleasing package, in all. But human.

“You had your orders!” he growled. “This is a human. They age, they break, they become dust. This does _not_ please me!” Though he thought he might let the human please him for a while. It was quite a beautiful human.

 _“This one is special,”_ the sprites who had brought the gift claimed.

_“This one will not break.”_

_“This one has magic.”_

_“This one was intended for a king.”_

_“This one is immortal.”_

The boy was gazing around with a dazed expression on his face, typical of any human who was dragged into the faerie realm. He probably thought he was dreaming. He certainly didn’t look as if he was as special as they claimed.

“Intended for a king…” Oberon mused. “And which king was he intended for?”

_“The king of all Albion.”_

_“The king who was foretold.”_

_“The Once and Future King.”_

_“Arthur Pendragon.”_

The boy looked around at the name, almost waking. “Arthur…”

Oberon knew of Arthur, the human king who would blaze brightly across Albion over several lifetimes. Arthur, and his consort, the sorcerer Emrys who would remain with him always.

“Is this Emrys?”

_“It is Emrys.”_

_“He calls himself Merlin.”_

_“He is magic.”_

_“He would please a king.”_

“I see.” Oberon stepped down to look closer at the prize. “And he is untouched? Pendragon has not claimed him?”

_“Never.”_

_“He can be yours.”_

_“Worthy of a king.”_

_“A perfect creature.”_

They had excellent taste, these servants of his. The boy was poorly-dressed, but that could be remedied. Fed, feted and seduced, there would be no return to the mortal realm for him. He ran a finger down Merlin’s cheek, stopping under his chin, then tilted Merlin’s face towards him. He could see the dazed confusion there.

“I need to go to Arthur…”

Well, that would change.

“You shall see your king, pretty creature, soon enough. Here,” he held out his hand and a perfect sweet plum appeared. “Eat, you must be hungry.”

Merlin eyed the plum for a moment, then took it. Oberon watched as he bit into it, a little of the juice running down his chin. Perfect. It would only have taken the tiniest drop of that juice to keep him there forever.

\---

Hours later, and there was still no sign of Merlin. There had been no breakfast, no lunch, and now it was heading towards dinnertime and still nothing.

Nobody had seen him. What bothered Arthur the most was that Gaius had been out looking for him for most of the afternoon. Gaius didn’t normally do that, he normally just came up with excuses for Merlin’s absence, no matter how implausible. So it wasn’t some magical thing that Arthur wasn’t supposed to know about, not this time.

When he returned to Gaius’ quarters to see if there was any news, the old man wasn’t there. Probably still out searching, Arthur supposed. He was tempted to do the same himself, though it probably wouldn’t do for the king of Camelot to go running around looking for a servant. Not that it would stop Arthur. He went up into Merlin’s room again, for want of anything else to try. That was the last place he had been seen.

The room was much as it had been that morning, but now that Arthur was looking for some sort of clue rather than simply for a missing servant, he saw what he’d missed the first time.

It looked like a pile of dust at first, but on closer look it was silvery, glittering almost. There was some on the bed, but it trailed down onto the floor and across the room, up to the little window which was open.

But it was a tiny window. There was no way Merlin could fit through that. His ears would get stuck before he even got his head through. Ridiculous.

Arthur heard Gaius come in, so he scooped up a little of the dust and hurried downstairs with it.

“Any news?”

Gaius shook his head wearily. “I have no idea where else to try.”

“I was looking up in his room just now. I found something.”

Gaius looked immediately concerned, and Arthur supposed that there were probably all sorts of magical things hidden away up there that he wasn’t supposed to see.

“It’s just… _this_.” Arthur held out the silvery dust for Gaius to see.

The old physician peered at it myopically, then took some from Arthur to look closer. “Ah.”

“Ah?”

“Well,” Gaius began. He had that tone in his voice that Arthur had learnt usually meant that his audience wasn’t going to like what he had to say, and that he was going to choose his words very carefully. “This looks like faerie dust.”

“Faerie dust?”

“Yes. Where was it?”

“Well… in the bed… on the floor… it was leading up to the window.”

Gaius moved surprisingly quickly given his advanced years, going up to Merlin’s room to look for himself.

“That window’s been sealed shut for years,” he said. “I should have noticed earlier. Oh Merlin, my boy, what have you got yourself into this time?”

Arthur frowned. “I don’t understand. Merlin couldn’t have got through that window.”

“He could if the faeries took him. Which I suspect is what has happened.”

And that was when Arthur decided that Gaius and Merlin had to be playing a practical joke on him.

“The faeries.”

“Yes.” It was remarkable how Gaius managed to still look so serious.

“Took Merlin.”

“It looks that way. We should look outside, there’ll be a trail.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, but decided to go with it. Whatever foolish prank Merlin was carrying out, he would see it through and then decide exactly how he would retaliate. There were endless choices really.

“I must say you’re taking this very calmly, Sire,” Gaius commented as they walked out of the building. Gwaine and Lancelot had joined them, their sudden appearance only adding to Arthur’s suspicions despite their claims that they had been looking for Merlin too. Of course, they were both Merlin’s friends, and if there was any joke to be had then Gwaine would always want to be right at the heart of it.

“Well,” Arthur smiled brightly. “It’s not every day your manservant gets stolen by the faeries, is it? I wonder what else has happened. Perhaps the pixies have taken Sir Leon?”

“Doubtful, I saw him leaving the stables only an hour ago,” Lancelot told him seriously, and Gwaine just snorted.

“They probably threw him back when he started lecturing them on propriety and correct knightly behaviour,” Gwaine muttered.

“This isn’t funny,” Gaius warned, and Gwaine fell silent. It was quite annoying, as Gwaine rarely if ever did that for anyone else. Arthur mulled over how difficult it would be to bring Gaius along sometimes, just to quell Gwaine’s propensity to chatter with a single quirk of his eyebrow.

“Here, Sire,” Gaius hurried across the last part of the courtyard to a section of the castle wall that Arthur had never paid much attention to before. The small open window high above looked familiar though. And there was that silvery dust still faintly there, barely noticeable but leading down the wall and out across the courtyard and through the gate.

Evidently Gaius had missed his vocation and should have joined a theatre troupe, unless the joke was being played on him as well. He crouched down to look at the mysterious dust again, Gwaine and Lancelot following suit. They all looked horrified.

Arthur tried not to roll his eyes.

“Will we be hunting for the faeries then?” he asked as pleasantly as he could. “Should I have someone saddle up the horses?”

“I’ll get them,” Lancelot told him, and with a worried glance at Gwaine, hurried off towards the stables.

“I’m coming with you!” Gaius called after him, and Lancelot just waved back in acknowledgement.

Gwaine was still on his knees, fingering the dust.

“I haven’t seen this in years. Back when I was a boy there was a woman taken from the town, and there was this stuff everywhere. Nobody ever saw her again. People said she was a seer, and that was why they took her.” He looked up at Gaius, and Arthur saw the two men exchange an apprehensive glance.

Oh honestly, did _everyone_ in Camelot know about Merlin’s magic except Arthur? Arthur was going to be having words with Merlin once whatever this stupid prank he was playing was over. And teasing Gaius like this was unkind, Merlin was like a son to him. There would be words about that as well.

When Lancelot returned, he had Leon, Percival and Elyan with him, which was a little surprising. Elyan was sometimes given to practical jokes, but rarely Percival and Arthur couldn’t imagine for one moment that Leon would be in on it. He started to wonder if perhaps there was more to it than a simple joke. Why would Gwaine involve Leon and the others? In fact, Lancelot was a strange choice as well, the dedicated and loyal knight rarely being one for ever stepping out of line. He was forever grateful to Arthur for allowing him to realise his dream of becoming a knight. And he did seem genuinely concerned about Merlin. And then there was Gaius. Gaius did have an odd sense of humour, but rarely about anything like this so he couldn’t possibly be in on the joke. And surely even Gwaine would never joke around about Merlin’s magic?

Merlin was a powerful sorcerer, Arthur knew that for a fact. He allowed the charade of the bumbling servant because it amused him, but perhaps it had gone on long enough now. If another race had taken Merlin, stolen him away… that didn’t bear thinking about.  

Arthur let Gwaine and Lancelot lead the way. The trail was faint but strangely enough in the fading light the dust seemed to sparkle more brightly.

It was obviously magical, and Arthur wondered if perhaps it was something Merlin was doing? That would be a far better scenario than Merlin having been abducted. Perhaps, Arthur thought hopefully, Merlin had finally decided to trust Arthur with it and they were all off to witness a magnificent revelation? Perhaps Gwaine thought that all the knights should be there to stop Arthur killing the evil sorcerer?

“Surely they can’t really believe he’s been taken by the faeries?” Leon whispered. “I mean… that’s ridiculous. Even if it were true, why would they want Merlin?”

Arthur could think of a few reasons why anyone would want Merlin, but he preferred to keep those to himself. “He’s my servant,” he said instead. “It’s not as if he hasn’t been targeted before.”

“But… faeries?”

Arthur shrugged. “I’ve seen some strange things, Leon. Who’s to say what’s real and what’s just legend?”

“And what are we supposed to do at the end of this trail?” Leon continued. “All the legends say that… creatures like that… just vanish into the forests. We won’t find them, but if we did…”

Arthur thought he could hear something, a light, tinkling laugh coming from the trees. He peered in the dim light, but couldn’t see anything. Up ahead, Lancelot had lit a torch. Leon was still talking to him, but Arthur had stopped listening. He heard it again, and twisted in his saddle, certain of it this time.

“Did you hear that?”

Leon just looked at him in puzzlement. “I can hear Elyan and Percival talking behind us.”

“There was laughter. In the trees.” Arthur looked around again, feeling a cold chill spread over him. If this was what Gaius and Gwaine suspected, and the abduction was real, how on earth were they going to get Merlin back?

_“Go back little king.”_

_“Not yours now.”_

_“Go back.”_

Leon was showing no signs of having heard the voices. Arthur sat up straighter in the saddle, looking around, trying to see the source.

The noises continued, more of the hissed little voices than the laughter as they rode on. Gaius was ignoring it too, or perhaps he couldn’t hear it either? There was no sign of whoever or whatever it was that the voices belonged to. Arthur was about to ask Leon again if he could hear it, when Gwaine called back to them.

“It’s here.”

The trail led into a small clearing, right up to the edge of a small ring of mushrooms, perfectly formed in the centre of the clearing. The sparkling dust was heavier on the ground there, and went no further.

Arthur looked at it, then looked at Gwaine and waited for the punchline, waited for Merlin to come leaping out of the undergrowth with a huge smile on his face, declaring Arthur finally worthy of his secret. There was nothing and Arthur’s heart sank.

Instead, Gaius had crouched down to examine the ring, carefully staying outside. Gwaine was less careful, touching one of the mushrooms then leaping back quickly with a yelp of pain.

“Something bit me!”

“Don’t touch the ring,” Gaius warned, a little late. Gwaine rubbed his hand, scowling down at the ring of mushrooms.

“Won’t one of us have to step inside?” Lancelot asked. “I mean, if we’re to get Merlin back. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

Leon was peering down at it curiously as well, whilst Elyan and Percival were watching in some alarm. Arthur supposed it depended on which bedtime stories they’d been told as children, or which legends they’d heard. Arthur’s stories had all been about knights and kings. He knew nothing of faeries. They were fanciful and magical, and therefore any mention was banned from within Uther’s hearing. Arthur wondered what would happen if he kicked the mushrooms over. Would that free Merlin, or imprison him forever?

_“Not going to look, little king?”_

Arthur turned, intending to tell whoever it was exactly what he thought of being called _little_. He looked, and then he stared. It was one of the most bizarre things he’d ever seen.

There, sitting on a branch of a nearby tree, was a tiny little man. No, not a man… it had wings, and it was reclining on the branch, grinning down at Arthur. A pointy-eared creature with a bluish tinge to its skin, and long, skeletal fingers, and a red kerchief dangling from them. It looked remarkably similar to Merlin’s, Arthur noted with horror. No question of it being a prank any more, then. Oh how he wanted it to be a prank now.

_“Don’t you want your sorcerer back?”_

“Who… what are you?” Arthur took a step towards the creature. It dropped the kerchief and Arthur snatched it up but the creature didn’t appear to be intimidated by him, even when he drew his sword. The creature danced easily out of the way, infuriatingly. “Where’s Merlin? What have you done with him?”

_“Ah, now he’s been taken for the king.”_

“ _I’m_ the king.”

The little creature laughed at that. _“You are a little mortal king, Arthur Pendragon. Even the once and future king is no match for the king of faerie. That is who has taken him, who will claim him. You had your chance, now Emrys is ours.”_

Emrys. Yes, that was what the Druids called Merlin. Or, rather, that was what they called the legendary sorcerer that they seemed obsessed by. Arthur had wondered if Emrys and Merlin were one and the same. There couldn’t be that many powerful sorcerers lining up to protect him.

“He is mine. Return him.” He tried to grab hold of the creature, but it slipped from his grasp. “If you’ve harmed him in any way I will hunt you down, you and your king.”

_“And how will you do that? Step into the ring, little king, if you want to see Emrys again. You have one of your mortal days left, then he will be lost to you forever.”_

“Who are you talking to, Arthur?”

Arthur turned to find Elyan at his side, peering into the trees curiously. The creature was still there, but Elyan seemed unable to see it, even when it flew down and started to dance around him, pulling at his ears and flicking his cloak.

“There’s a… it’s a...” Arthur watched the creature dancing around his men now, poking and prodding at them, and wondered how on earth he was supposed to describe it. “It says they’ve taken Merlin,” he managed eventually. “Can’t you see it at all?”

Gaius stood up wearily. “No. So tell me what you can see, Arthur. What did it say to you?”

The creature did a mocking dance around the old physician, bowing and scraping to him then reaching up to tug on the clasp of his cloak. Gaius grabbed the cloak before it fell to the floor.

“Hurry up, Arthur. I assume it’s some type of faerie that’s here?”

“It’s an ugly little blue stick man with wings, and it just undid your cloak.” He ignored the way Leon’s eyes were almost bugging out with surprise, his first knight obviously thought the king had lost his mind.

“ _Not ugly,”_ hissed the creature. _“Look at yourself!”_

“It said they’ve taken Merlin for their king, and I have to step into the ring if I ever want to see him again.” He couldn’t look at Leon as he said it, not wanting to see the disbelief there. Instead he kept all his focus on Gaius, who was looking desperately worried now. “I have to do it.”

“You can’t do that,” Lancelot told him. “I’ll go.”

“I’ll go with Lancelot,” Gwaine agreed.

 _“Only one and only the king,”_ the creature hissed. _“Only a king can take what is meant for a king.”_

“It has to be me, apparently,” Arthur told them. Leon was definitely going to think he’d lost his mind now. “And I only have a day before he’s gone forever.”

Gaius actually flinched at that. He looked down at the ring, then back at Arthur. “You know it would be terribly dangerous? You could be lost forever. You’re our king, Arthur.”

“And I have a duty to protect all my subjects. Especially my own servant. I’m going. No arguments. If I’m not back in one day, then you can assume we’re both lost. This,” he pulled the heavy ring from his finger and handed it to Leon. “Is the authority you’ll need if I don’t return.”

He ignored the clamour of protests from his knights, Leon loudest amongst them, and turned to Gaius. “Quickly. What do I do? What do I need?”

“You need to be careful, Arthur. They’re tricky, sneaky creatures, never forget that. We don’t know for sure that the one you see is telling the truth. Don’t eat anything while you’re there. No matter how hungry or thirsty you are, no matter how tempting it looks, don’t eat or drink anything at all. If you do, you’re trapped there. And once you do leave, you can never return, so make sure you’ve got Merlin with you. Go through together. And take something in with you, something to remember this land, your people. It’s easy to forget.”

“Blood,” Gwaine announced. “Nothing stronger than blood, that’s what the sor… _wise_ men used to say where I come from.And there’s nothing stronger than us. Give me that.” He took the kerchief from Arthur, then pricked his own finger with his sword, letting a few drops fall on the material.

“Good,” Gaius murmured. “All of you, add to it.”

Arthur watched as all five knights and then Gaius followed suit before handing him back the bloodied material. It was all taking time. He wanted to go, to start looking for Merlin, to get him back and make this faerie king pay for taking what was Arthur’s.

“Keep it around your neck,” Gaius advised. “Hide it beneath your armour. Don’t remove it, not even for a moment. They’ll try to take it.”

“Arthur, please don’t do this,” Leon hissed. “Merlin wouldn’t want you to.”

“Merlin wants me to be king, Leon,” Arthur told him, confident of that. “Gaius, while I’m gone, tell Leon just how long I’ll last as king, without _Emrys_.” He had the satisfaction of seeing not only Gaius but also Lancelot and Gwaine stare at him in shock. _There_ , he thought, _I can keep secrets better than any of you_. It momentarily blotted out the fear and apprehension he felt at what he was about to do, stepping into the unknown. And then he stepped into the ring and suddenly was somewhere else.

\---

Arthur blinked for a moment, startled by the sudden bright sunlight after the semi-darkness of the glade. It did still look as if he were standing in the glade, the ring of trees looked the same, the path leading away, back to Camelot…

But it wasn’t the same. His knights and Gaius were nowhere to be seen, and the strange little stick man… wasn’t a stick man any more.

“You… you’re different.”

Arthur wasn’t even sure it was the same creature. This was a young man, taller, handsome even, slender and graceful, transparent wings rising up high behind him. His dark hair and large ears reminded him somewhat of Merlin, though Merlin’s ears didn’t taper off into a sharp point. The cheeky, disrespectful grin was unmistakeable though.

“Robin Goodfellow, at your service, little king.” The…whatever he was… bowed deeply, still grinning.

“Don’t call me that,” Arthur growled, then belatedly realised that was probably a mistake.

“But you are a little king,” Robin pointed out. “Gone, like that,” he snapped his fingers. “Just a breeze through my hair. My king, now, he is eternal.”

The whispering, breathy quality to his voice that had been present before Arthur stepped into the ring was gone. It was like talking to another human now. Still, there was no time to ponder the change.

“Do you know where Merlin is? Or Emrys, if that’s what you call him?”

“Yes.”

That was it, nothing more useful.

“Well will you take me to him?” Arthur asked impatiently, then added “please,” as an afterthought. He was always forgetting that one.

Robin bowed again, and there was still something not quite respectful about it. The movement was so smooth and graceful, for a moment Arthur was distracted. He pressed a hand to his throat, to the cloth hidden there, grounding him.

“Very good,” Robin nodded. “You might get out of here after all, little king. This way.”

Robin, Arthur soon found, was quite the conversationalist. There was little of use in what he said, but he could talk and talk. As they walked through the forest Arthur heard about people… no, not people… _faeries_ that he hoped he’d never meet, about the quick-tempered, passionate, arrogant king that Robin served, and the beautiful queen, and countless courtiers and… toads. Apparently the king turned those who displeased him into toads. Arthur hoped that when he found Merlin, his magic would be working. He didn’t fancy the idea of spending the rest of his life waddling around and croaking. Or with warts. Or green.

“Here…” Robin whispered. “I go no further.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were a member of the court?”

Robin shrugged, and gave that little grin that never quite seemed to leave his face. “I am resting. And if I am to help you, it’s best I’m not seen. Go on down the path, the king’s court is there.”

The path appeared to lead into more trees and foliage. “I can’t see a castle.”

“There is no castle. Faeries don’t need a castle, little king. That is just the false finery of men, built to be torn down or crumble away. Now go, claim your sorcerer before my king does.”

Tricky, that’s what Gaius had said. This one couldn’t even retain the same appearance. He looked more human-like to Arthur in this world, but he was still really that strange, stick-like creature Arthur had seen in the glade.

“Why are you helping me?”

He could have sworn Robin hissed under his breath at that question. “Too many questions. Go, before your sorcerer is bound here forever.”

“But isn’t that what you people want? Don’t you like to have us trapped here? How do I know this isn’t a trap for me?”

“You don’t.” And with that, Robin sprang away into the trees and was gone. It was hardly reassuring.

Drawing his sword and holding it out before him, Arthur ventured on. He wasn’t convinced he was doing the right thing, but there was little other option. It wasn’t as if he could go back, not until he had found Merlin. Grimly, he walked down the path Robin had shown him.

\---

Merlin had a vague recollection that he should be somewhere else. But the woods were so pretty, and the faeries were so bright and loved his magic so much. It was a relief to be able to use it freely and openly, to have it admired. And their king, sitting there watching him, applauding at the cleverness of his tricks.

The king was very kind, feeding him, showing him special favour. Handsome and regal, and with that certain otherworldly charm. It was getting hard to remember a time when Merlin hadn’t been at his side. The mortal world seemed so harsh and dark in comparison. And the faeries had taken him to a pool so clear it looked like glass, and bid him wash, then given him clothes as light as gossamer and about as substantial too. He’d never owned anything so fine. They fitted him perfectly.

The king had stood and watched, then took his arm when Merlin was dressed again and led him back the way they’d come. They were outside, always, but it never felt cold, always temperate.

“Lovely Emrys. You are indeed fit for a king.”

The king was almost purring. His voice was like warm molasses, attractive and comforting.  

There was somewhere Merlin should be. But he couldn’t remember where it was. He smiled up at the king, and accepted another cup of the sweet honey wine.

\---

Arthur could hear the chatter and laughter up ahead, the tiny whispering voices that he’d heard out in the world. He should, he realised, have brought some of the knights with him. Never mind what Robin said, Robin had abandoned him and this was probably going to be the last and most stupid thing he’d done. For a moment he wondered about turning back, and then he heard it in amongst the laughter, deeper and warmer than the other voices. Merlin’s voice.

The path turned a corner, and Arthur suddenly found himself in the midst of a large group of faeries. Most of them were tiny, fluttering things, but there were some on the ground with no wings, and in the centre one much larger than the rest, larger even than Robin had been. This one might even be taller than Arthur though it was hard to tell as he was sitting down. And at his side, sitting almost in his lap and taking a huge mouthful of whatever was in the golden goblet he was holding, was Merlin.

“Merlin!”

Merlin looked around, somewhat dazedly. He blinked owlishly at Arthur, looking puzzled for a moment, then his face broke into a smile.

“Arthur!” He turned to beam at the tall being beside him. “This is Arthur!”

“So I see.” It was obvious that Arthur was not at all welcome. The faerie stood up, and yes he was taller than Arthur. He had vast blue wings that rose high on his back. Even folded they were imposing. And he wore a crown of silver, the work impossibly fine. This, Arthur supposed, was the faerie king.

Merlin tried to get up, but struggled a little with coordination, and anyway the king placed his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, signifying he should stay put. It was a silent instruction that Merlin, Arthur was pleased to see, was having trouble keeping to.

“I’ve come for my servant,” Arthur attempted. There was little chance Merlin would simply be handed over, but he could at least try. Merlin was gazing up at him adoringly, which was worth all the trouble Arthur feared this was going to be. But when Merlin tried yet again to stand, the king’s hand grew firmer, holding him down.

“Emrys is mine now. Leave, you are interrupting.”

“Not without Merlin.” Arthur advanced a little, keeping his sword held high. He knew the king would have magic, but trusted Merlin to protect him against it. Although Merlin didn’t seem to be doing a great job of protecting himself at the moment. Arthur hoped it was because of the unnecessary wish to hide his magic from Arthur. “Merlin, come here.” When Merlin failed again to break free of the king’s grip, Arthur added, “I know about your magic. Do whatever you have to.”

Merlin’s shock was momentary, though Arthur knew there would be questions later. Time enough when they were both free of this place, and for all the foolish persona Merlin liked to pretend to have, Arthur knew that was only a front. Grim and determined-looking now, Merlin turned on the faerie king. Merlin’s eyes briefly glowed a faint gold, but nothing happened. Arthur watched him try but it seemed the king was too powerful.

“Oberon, what have you done?” Merlin hissed at the king, who just smiled, almost benevolently.

“I did nothing. Your magic is born from the earth, Emrys. Here it is weaker. You have nothing to ground you and that makes me stronger. And you came here willingly, weakening yourself further.”

“Your creatures drugged me while I was still asleep.”

“And in your dream you entered my realm. Here you are. You were happy enough until your old king turned up.” The faerie king turned on Arthur angrily as Merlin struggled in his grasp. “I tire of you! Leave! Now!”

_“Leave!”_

_“Emrys is not for you!”_

_“Oberon has chosen Emrys.”_

_“Emrys is ours now!”_

The little hissy, whispering voices were quite irritating, but Arthur tried to ignore them. Some tiny faeries fluttered around him angrily, and he waved them aside like the annoying little flies that they reminded him of.

“I belong with Arthur,” Merlin protested. “I don’t want to be here. Let me go.”

_“Take it back!”_

_“Ungrateful boy!”_

_“Wicked boy, to speak so to our king!”_

_“We should crush the little king.”_

_“Sire, let us crush him.”_

“Oh shut up!” Arthur snarled, losing his temper with them, and added to Oberon. “Can’t you control them?”

The faerie king turned his furious gaze on Arthur, and raised his staff threateningly. For a moment Arthur considered that perhaps antagonising him wouldn’t prove to be wise.

“What do you want from me, anyway?” Merlin put in quickly. “You have magic, mine isn’t powerful here, so what use am I to you?”

The distraction worked. Oberon turned to look at Merlin, and Arthur really didn’t like the lingering, suggestive way the faerie king was looking his manservant up and down.

“Emrys is destined to be consort to a king. It has long been written.”

Consort. That brought up all sorts of images that Arthur tried to push away. Thoughts and feelings for his manservant that he’d been hiding for far too long. But still, Oberon was making it sound as if it was destiny, not a secret wish of Arthur’s.

“Arthur’s my king,” Merlin breathed. He was, Arthur noticed, turning an interesting shade of pink and no longer looking at Arthur. “Not you.”

“But Arthur hasn’t claimed you, has he?” Oberon smirked, running a long, slender finger down the side of Merlin’s face. “You’re fair game.”

“I’m his manservant.”

That made Oberon laugh loud and hard, throwing back his head. Merlin did glance across at Arthur worriedly, then away just as fast.

“Consort, Emrys. He hasn’t claimed you as his consort. And you lie to each other, you wouldn’t trust him with your magic and he hasn’t freed you with the fact that he knew about it. You’ll be better here. There are no lies, only truths we haven’t told each other yet. I claim you, and your power, and your destiny.”

Merlin tilted his head back defiantly. “I refuse. Let me go.”

“Fine.” Oberon released him, throwing up his arms as if tired of him, and Merlin quickly moved to Arthur’s side. “Go. Leave. If you can.”

Arthur glanced down at the goblet Merlin had been drinking from, lying discarded in the grass. “Did you drink from that?” he asked. He already knew the answer before Merlin nodded.

“Not completely ignorant then, Arthur Pendragon. He drank, and has eaten our food. He cannot leave.” Oberon gave a brief, almost contemptuous laugh. “Now what will you do? Stay here with him forever? Give up your kingdom? I don’t think so.”

Merlin had picked up the goblet and was examining it carefully. “I don’t understand.”

“Gaius said that if we eat or drink anything here, we’re trapped.”

Merlin flung the goblet away from him as if it had bitten him. Which, Arthur supposed, in a way it had.

“It was only a few mouthfuls! I didn’t know!” He looked over at Oberon, betrayal written all over his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Ah yes, that little matter.” Oberon waved a hand in the vague direction of the goblet and it floated up towards him. “I would have thought the great Emrys would know.”

“Good point,” Arthur muttered, and just shrugged when Merlin turned a wide-eyed, hurt look on him. “Well you should have known! You’re supposed to be the expert on all this.”

“Magic, not faeries,” Merlin pointed out. “And anyway, if you weren’t always running into trouble and needing saving, or wasting my time with things like cleaning your armour and fetching your bathwater, I’d have time to do research and things and I would know.”

“Well not much danger of that now, is there? What with you being stuck in Faerie forever!” The thought was horrible. Arthur wasn’t sure he could actually leave Merlin there if it came down to it. But he was king. He had to return. Merlin gazed at him miserably.

“I don’t want to stay here.”

“There _has_ to be a way around this!” Arthur growled, rounding on Oberon furiously and trying to ignore the way the little faeries and sprites around them fluttered and hissed angrily. “You can’t keep Merlin here against his will.”

“You’re starting to bore me, human king. Go, leave us.”

Claim him, that’s what they had said. The words almost stuck in Arthur’s throat, because nobody should own another person. It wasn’t what he wanted his reign to be about, certainly wasn’t what he wanted his relationship with Merlin to be about. But it was language this flighty king might understand.

“He’s mine. He’s meant for me.”

Oberon glared at him, not used to anyone daring to defy him.

“Then you should have claimed him. But you won’t, will you Arthur Pendragon.” Oberon reached out towards Merlin, who flinched away. “Ah, pretty, you weren’t so difficult earlier. You have done this, human king. And so, because I am benevolent, I give you one last chance to win him.”

Merlin looked hopeful. Arthur thought he knew better. He doubted it would be a real chance.

“A challenge! A race. Good sport. My faeries shall hide him, then you and I shall go on a hunt. The first to find and claim Emrys shall have him. If I have him, you will leave and never return. He will forget you.”

“No!” Merlin gasped. “Arthur, I’d never do that.”

But they both knew he already almost had done so. Arthur fingered the piece of cloth at his neck, grateful for the blood there, the tie back to his people, to his land.

“And if I win you’ll give us safe passage home,” he said slowly. “And you’ll never attempt to take… _Emrys_ from me again.”

“Done.” Oberon clapped his hands and Merlin was gone in an instant.

The last Arthur saw of him was his shocked face as the tiny but apparently strong creatures spirited him away, gone without a trace. He hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye, to reassure Merlin that he’d do all he could to win.

“I didn’t say I agreed.”

The faerie king gave him a haughty, disdainful look. “A king should be decisive. You made an offer, I accepted your terms. It is done.”

“But…” Tricky. Gaius had warned him they were tricky, and he hadn’t been careful enough. He could lose Merlin over this, over being fooled into taking part in a contest he couldn’t win.

“We’ll give them a moment…” Oberon told him calmly.

“This is your land,” Arthur protested. “Your people. They’ll have told you exactly where to find him. This isn’t fair or equal. There’s no honour in it.”

“True.” Oberon didn’t seem to care. He examined his fingernails, which Arthur thought were far too long and manicured though he refrained from saying so. Oberon, Arthur thought, wouldn’t last five seconds in a fair fight against himself or any of his knights.

“What kind of king finds that sporting?”

“One that will beat you, Arthur Pendragon.” Oberon snarled at him. “Without your pet sorcerer you are just a mortal man. Go home, you cannot win. The prize is already mine.”

“You won’t enjoy having Merlin as a companion, you know?” Arthur warned. “He’s disrespectful, speaks his mind, and has no idea how to behave in front of royalty.”

Oberon eyed him suspiciously. “Then why are you so keen to have him back, Arthur Pendragon?”

“I’m used to him. You’re only used to servants and minions who do your every bidding. What happens to Merlin when you tire of him? Because you will.”

“Puck was all of those things,” Oberon announced suddenly. “All of them and more. Emrys will be an excellent replacement for him.” He looked a little sad, Arthur thought. And, perhaps Arthur thought he was finally onto something.

“Who was Puck?”

“My servant. No matter, he chose to leave. Enough of Puck. Come, I shall be fair and sporting as you wish. You may leave first. What, ten of your mortal minutes head start? Would that be fair? Would that be _sporting_ , Arthur Pendragon?”

Arthur paused, wary of a trick. “How long is that in your faerie time? Longer? Less?”

“Very good. Less. And becoming less with every passing breath. Run, King of Camelot. Ah, but you have no idea do you? No idea where to run _to._ ” He paused, then slowly, almost lazily waved his arm in the direction the faeries who took Merlin had gone. “Another sporting chance then. It’s that way.” When Arthur hesitated, still wary of a trick, Oberon hissed. “Go!”

There was no chance, but Arthur took it anyway. He knew he wasn’t slow, but he couldn’t move at the impossibly fast speeds that the faerie folk managed. He felt sluggish and lumbering in comparison, and that feeling wasn’t helped a moment later when Oberon flew past him, lingering just long enough to give Arthur a wave, and then was gone.

“You’ll never get there in time.”

Robin was at Arthur’s side. Arthur hadn’t seen where he’d come from, and of course the faerie was stepping effortlessly through the undergrowth that seemed to tangle around Arthur’s feet with every step, pulling at him and trying to trip him over.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Arthur growled.

“Perhaps you should just give up? He’s only a servant, after all.”

Merlin was far more than just a servant to Arthur, but he wasn’t going to admit that to the irritating creature beside him. “He’s part of my household, and he’s been captured. I’d try to save any member of my household… any citizen of Camelot who had been taken against their will.”

“Interesting.” Robin floated along beside him, bright wings visible on his back now. No wonder the vines and plants were no trouble to him. “I don’t think Oberon would do that.”

“Oberon’s a posturing idiot. He’s done something to Merlin’s magic, and he intends keeping him here permanently. I don’t care what it takes, I’m not giving up on Merlin.” He stumbled, righted himself, and kept moving. Running was impossible, the undergrowth seemed to be getting thicker all the time.

“Why does the king want Emrys?”

“I don’t know!” Arthur tripped again, and this time fell painfully on one knee. “His servant’s gone, he wants another. Gods, this is impossible. Puck, that was his name. Do you know him?”

“Does the king miss him?” Robin sounded a little wistful, Arthur thought, and began to wonder.

“I don’t know… Yes, probably. He looked sad.” Arthur gave Robin a sidelong glance. Robin was looking thoughtful, concerned. And he was very interested in what the faerie king was feeling about this Puck creature. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Robin Goodfellow is what I told you.”

“But you have others?”

“Very good. I have many names. But tell me more of how sad the king looked.”

“He misses Puck, I’m sure of it.” Arthur stopped. He was starting to get an idea. And the look on Robin’s, or most likely _Puck’s,_ face told him that his new companion was missing his king, no matter how much he might be trying to hide it. “I’m sure as well that he’d give Merlin up if this Puck were to return to him.”

“Puck has his pride.”

“I’m sure you do,” Arthur agreed, and was rewarded with a wry smile and a small bow, confirming his suspicions. “Enough to give his service and loyalty to another king, just for a short time?”

Robin gave him a long, searching look, then smiled. “What did you have in mind, little king?”

\---

It was Oberon.

Merlin had known that it would be, that Arthur couldn’t possibly have reached him first, but he had still lived in hope. That, apparently, was now to be dashed.

The faeries had brought him to a little glade, sweet-smelling and verdant. It was sheltered by lush green foliage, vines that crept up around the trees, yet somehow didn’t block out the sunlight. They settled him down on a grassy bank and started to drop flower petals around him.

No amount of protesting would make them leave him alone, and he quickly found that attempting to leave the glade was impossible. Eventually he had sat there and waited, miserably, while cherry blossom rained down on him like a bizarre snowstorm. To make matters worse, the faeries were crafting him a crown of flowers.

_“Pretty Emrys.”_

_“Fit for a king.”_

“Not _your_ king!” Merlin snapped, trying to brush them away. They were small and annoying, and wouldn’t be thwarted, but as soon as they had crowned him, Merlin pulled the thing off and threw it to the ground. The faeries chattered around him, but they didn’t seem too dismayed. And a moment later, when that posturing king flew into the glade with even more of them surrounding him, Merlin could see why.

Oberon, though, didn’t seem as interested in Merlin as he had earlier. He stopped a few feet away, and looked around as if he were expecting to see someone else there. Merlin doubted that it was Arthur. Arthur, without Merlin to help him, was probably crashing through Faerie like the clumsy clotpole that he was, falling over things and doubtless blaming Merlin with every step. Merlin missed him horribly. He tried to reach for his magic again, but it just wasn’t there. If only he hadn’t accepted the food and drink. But he’d been hungry, and he hadn’t known.

“Where’s Arthur?” he asked.

The king seemed to notice him at last. “Ah, he’s somewhere back there, lumbering along, still trying to find you. It’s quite endearing, like an overgrown puppy. No wonder you’re so fond of him.” He bent down and picked up the floral crown, then placed it carefully on Merlin’s head, wagging his finger when Merlin went to remove it again. “Ah-ah. That stays. You’re to be consort to a king now, Emrys. You should look the part.”

There was something about Oberon. Merlin couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but somehow the king didn’t seem as threatening as he might. Merlin had the feeling he would be kept here as a vaguely interesting toy, nothing more, and once the king tired of him (which Merlin suspected would be very quickly) he would be left to wander Faerie for the rest of his days, far from his friends and all those he loved. It was a grim thought.

“You said I was destined to be Arthur’s,” he attempted. Perhaps Arthur would find him, if he stalled the king long enough. Oberon was fey and beautiful, of that there was no question, but Merlin had no wish to be claimed by him. He had a fairly good idea what that meant, and Oberon could forget it. If only he could get his magic back. “You’re upsetting the order of things, I’m meant for Arthur. I only want Arthur. I’d never want anyone else.”

And of course, of _course_ Arthur had to choose that moment to appear, so that he could hear Merlin say something that Merlin just knew, if they got out of there, he was never going to let Merlin live down.

Arthur, though, was looking at him with a gentler expression than Merlin had ever seen on him. There was no doubt that he had heard what Merlin had just said. If Merlin didn’t know better, he’d think Arthur wanted him too. But Arthur had someone with him. It was another faerie, another tall faerie, human-sized like Oberon. Dark-haired and large-eyed, he was leaning towards Arthur and Arthur in turn had his arm around the faerie’s waist.

“Puck,” Oberon snarled. “This is not for you to interfere in. What are you doing here? Why are you with the mortal king?”

Puck waved a hand carelessly towards Merlin. “You’re taking a new servant. I shall go and live in the mortal world with my new king.” He stroked a hand fondly down Arthur’s cheek. Merlin raised an eyebrow, and tried not to laugh at the expression on Arthur’s face. Oberon though, didn’t seem to notice. He was only watching Puck.

“I forbid it!”

“But you’ve taken my servant,” Arthur pointed out.

“Consort!” hissed Puck.

“Uh… my _consort_. Yes. It’s only fair that I should take yours.”

“And unlike Emrys, I’m willing to go. Do you know how many knights the little… the mortal king has? Do you? It’s said that knights make fine lovers. Arthur has promised to let me share them all.”

Again, there was that quickly-hidden shocked expression on Arthur’s face. Clearly, Merlin could see, Arthur and Puck hadn’t taken the time to get their stories straight before facing the faerie king. Obviously Merlin had trained Arthur well over the years, and he was just about keeping up with whatever nonsense Puck sprouted. Or at least Merlin hoped it was nonsense.

“You’ll stay here. I forbid you to leave!” Oberon actually stamped his foot at that. “Faeries, bind him.”

Puck didn’t seem to have the same problem with his magic that Merlin did and simply waved them away. “Really? They’re no match for me.” He stepped closer, and Merlin heard him speak softly. “That was only ever you. But you’ve chosen another.”

Oberon eyed his wayward faerie warily. “I chose because you left.”

“I left because you’re unbearable. Arrogant, selfish and pompous.”

“I’m the king.”

“Oh, that’s no excuse,” Puck crooned. “I’m sure Arthur’s not like that.”

Merlin almost choked, then smiled beatifically up at Arthur, who was glaring down at him. “No… definitely not. Ever.”

“And so,” Puck swept back across to Arthur’s side. “I choose the mortal world.”

Merlin wasn’t entirely sure he liked the way that this was going. His only hope was that Arthur was looking fairly bemused by Puck, and he had to suppose that it was his faerie equivalent pulling the strings here. Oberon was in some consternation. Merlin wondered if he’d ever failed to get his way before. Probably, by the look of Puck. It was quite likely the faerie ran rings around his king all the time. They weren’t so very dissimilar. Although Arthur would at least listen to Merlin, and wasn’t a complete clotpole all of the time. Not _all_ of the time…

“Which means you’ll be keeping Merlin,” Arthur added. “He seems to have lost his magic, and he’s a hopeless servant. Untidy and disobedient, and spends half his time in the tavern. Probably not quite what you’re used to.”

Arthur seemed to have entered into that part of the charade… well, Merlin hoped it was a charade… all too easily. Fortunately it appeared to have slipped Oberon’s mind that Arthur had come after this supposedly useless servant because he couldn’t do without him. Oberon, Merlin noticed, only had eyes for his own servant. The one who claimed he was about to run off with Merlin’s king.

“Your reign will be short if you do this, Arthur Pendragon,” Oberon warned. “You cannot take what is mine and not pay a high price.”

“Perhaps it will be worth it?” Arthur suggested. Merlin frowned. Arthur was perhaps taking it a little too far.

“If you attempt to take what is mine, I will tear your kingdom from the earth and scatter it to the four winds. I will rend you limb from limb and leave you screaming in agony and begging for death. I will take every mention of your name, every memory of you and erase it from the minds of your people. You will be nothing, Arthur Pendragon. No once and future king will ever be heard of, and when you return, you will still be as nothing.”

“That’s a little drastic,” Arthur said, more calmly than Merlin thought was sensible under the circumstances. He also didn’t seem to be questioning the once and future king reference. Merlin wondered just what Puck had been telling him.

“Puck is mine.”

“Perhaps a peaceful exchange then,” Arthur suggested. “My… consort for yours.”

“And safe passage back to the mortal realm,” Merlin added hastily. “And no tearing anyone limb from limb.”

“I suppose, on this occasion, if Puck returns to me then I can be benevolent. Puck?”

Puck shrugged, still not leaving Arthur’s side. “I don’t know. You aren’t offering me anything. Arthur has knights. Lots of them. Emrys will be taken as a consort, and honoured on his return.”

Merlin thought the honoured part was quite unlikely, but he’d happily go with the consort part. And Arthur hadn’t exactly pushed away the idea. It was making hope blossom in Merlin’s heart like he’d never dared let it do before. But they weren’t out of there yet.

“If I come back, then what do I get? Fetch this, Puck, perform a trick, Puck, fly all around the earth and bring me some trinket I’ll have forgotten I wanted when you return, Puck.”

It did sound a little familiar, Merlin thought. He looked up at Arthur, raising an eyebrow. He could tell from the way Arthur looked away far too quickly that Arthur knew exactly what he was trying to convey.

“Well what do you require?” Oberon snapped tetchily. “It is, after all, my servant’s job to serve me. It’s an honour.”

Puck put his head on one side, considering it. “I would like a throne beside yours in the faerie palace, and a crown and to be known as consort, and to be treated with the same respect you bestow on the queen.”

“The queen is nothing to me.”

Puck folded his arms, nodding. “And yet you are unfailingly polite and respectful to her. Am I also nothing?”

“A throne,” Oberon agreed, not answering the question. “A small one. Lower than mine.”

“And the other terms?”

“We will see.” He looked to Arthur. “Are we agreed?”

“Oh… yes,” Arthur nodded. “I’ll just take Merlin straight out of here.”

“He can’t leave until you’ve claimed him,” Puck warned.

Arthur looked a little puzzled. “Well… I claim him. Can we go?”

Puck and Oberon looked at each other, and laughed. “The little king is very amusing,” Puck pointed out. Merlin admired Arthur’s resolve, he would have expected him to try to put a stop to that insulting title by now. Although perhaps he had, and had failed. The faeries really didn’t seem to care what they said or did.

“You must claim him,” Oberon explained. “As your consort. Only that will break the hold that Faerie has on him, given that he has accepted our food, our hospitality.”

Merlin could see the confusion deepen on Arthur’s face. He still didn’t get it. “Clotpole,” he couldn’t help whispering at the sight. Arthur perhaps wouldn’t have heard, except…

“What is a clotpole?” Oberon asked, obviously confused. Arthur shot Merlin a furious look, but didn’t say anything.

“Ah, it’s a mortal greeting. A term of endearment only allowed from a consort to his beloved king. It’s a great honour.” Puck bowed deeply, and winked secretly at Merlin. “Perhaps I should use it now?”

It was true, Merlin thought, that Oberon was probably even more suitable to carry the title than Arthur.

“It’s a suitable title for a king,” Merlin confirmed as guilelessly as he could. He was starting to wish he could spend a little time with Puck. The fun they could have…

“Very well,” decided Oberon. “And now explain to Arthur Pendragon just how he can regain his servant.

“You have to take him as your own,” Puck explained. Merlin could see realisation spread across Arthur’s face as it finally dawned on him what they were expected to do. He didn’t look horrified though. That was a good sign. What wasn’t so good was that Oberon and Puck showed no signs of going anywhere. The pair of fae were standing there, watching them with interest.

“No need to watch,” Arthur growled. When there was still no movement, he added. “Don’t you have some claiming of your own to do?”

And, in the blink of an eye, they were both gone. Suddenly Merlin was alone in the clearing with Arthur. He smiled up at him a little nervously.

“Well,” breathed Arthur. “And what should we do now?”

Merlin was quite sure that Arthur knew exactly what he should do now. He lay back, fighting a sudden burst of nerves, and tried to look enticing. He doubted that it was actually going to work.

\---

Arthur liked to win.

The fact that he’d effectively defeated a fellow king, albeit with a little help from said king’s servant, was going to be a victory he would enjoy for quite some time to come. And the prize he’d won from that victory… yes, he thought he might enjoy that for a very, _very_ long time to come.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” Merlin said, a little shyly.

Merlin didn’t really look as if he needed rescuing.

His servant was sprawled out in the grass, gazing up at Arthur with wide eyes that belied the pose. He was wearing, if possible, even less than when Arthur had seen him earlier, before Oberon’s faeries had spirited him away. It definitely wasn’t a bad look.

“I don’t think I’ve finished yet,” Arthur told him. He unclasped his cloak, and let it fall to the ground behind him. Merlin watched it fall, then looked up at Arthur wonderingly as he threw down his gauntlets after it, then carefully unbelted his sword and laid it on the cloak.

“They’d better not steal Excalibur.”

There was a risk, of course, that Arthur would end up as half-naked as Merlin, and then those tricky faeries would steal all his clothes.

“I don’t think they can,” Merlin told him. “They don’t like metal.”

His armour was safe enough then. Merlin scrambled to his feet and started to help him remove it.

“Do you think they’ve gone?” he asked as Merlin helped him pull his haubert over his head. It was warm in the grove, and the thing had been getting uncomfortable. “The little faeries, the really annoying ones?”

“They’re probably with their king. They seem to just flutter around him all the time.” Merlin went to remove the scarf, but Arthur batted his hands away.

“That has to stay.”

Merlin peered at it. “You’ve got blood on it.”

“The knights. It’s a link back to our world, otherwise I’d forget down here. You forgot,” he added, trying not to sound too accusing. But it hurt that Merlin could forget him so quickly.

“They fed me things. I didn’t know what it would do. But I remember now,” he added earnestly. “As long as you’re around, it’s okay.” He tweaked the scarf. “This looks funny on you.”

Arthur looked pointedly at the floral crown that Merlin was still wearing. “You’ve obviously forgotten about that,” he pointed, then grabbed Merlin’s hand when he went to remove it. “Oh no, it stays.”

“So you can make comments about me being a girl?”

“Oh no,” Arthur didn’t let go of his hand, pulling him in closer instead. “So that I can remember what I’m doing. I’ll be your first, won’t I Merlin?”

The blush that spread across Merlin’s face, right to the tips of his ears, was enough of an answer, but he nodded, eyes downcast for a moment, then looked up at Arthur defiantly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

There definitely wasn’t. There was something about knowing that he would be Merlin’s first, and that if he had his way then Merlin’s only, that appealed to the selfish, competitive spirit in Arthur that he was never going to be able to completely quell. He could see exactly what Oberon had found so attractive in Merlin, and the thought that this man was destined to be his, that someone had tried to steal him away from Arthur, really fired up his possessive streak.

“You’re mine,” he growled, and pulled Merlin in to kiss him, gentle at first and then when Merlin met him eagerly he kissed him harder, pushing him backwards, guiding him back down onto the forest floor.

Merlin broke away and gazed at him in surprise, just for a moment, then was reaching up for him, pulling him down into an eager, slightly sloppy kiss, thrusting his hips up towards Arthur’s.

Arthur pushed at the flimsy clothing Merlin was wearing. He thought he heard it tear as he pulled the britches down, and it all came off easily enough. He could worry about what Merlin would wear later. Right now, all he wanted was to touch and taste that pale skin.

He wrapped his hand round Merlin’s freed cock, his thumb rubbing at the moisture that was leaking at the tip. His lover arched up into his grip eagerly.

“Gods, Arthur! I’m… I can’t… Arthur!”

And that was all it took to have Merlin shuddering and gasping through his orgasm. He looked vaguely apologetic when he recovered but Arthur pressed a finger to Merlin’s lips to stop whatever he was about to say. He smiled as Merlin’s tongue darted out to taste himself. There would be things that mouth could do, soon enough. He wondered what it would feel like on his cock, or licking at his hole. Time enough to find out when they got home, when they could go back to Arthur’s chambers and bolt the door.

Arthur leaned over him, tilting his head back so that he could mouth at the lovely pale skin of Merlin’s throat, sucking and licking at it until he had left a mark, branded him as Arthur’s.

“Possessive,” Merlin murmured, a smile playing about his lips.

“I don’t want anyone thinking you’re not mine,” Arthur pointed out. “There’ll be no misunderstandings in future.” He moved back up to claim Merlin’s mouth again, making absolutely sure there was no cheeky comeback. Actually, this was an excellent way of shutting Merlin up, with huge benefits to Arthur as well. He vaguely wondered why he hadn’t acted on his desires a long time ago. Merlin was obviously willing and eager.

Arthur sat up, manoeuvring Merlin around so that Merlin was lying on his back with his legs straddling Arthur’s, gazing up at him. Never taking his eyes from Merlin’s, Arthur lifted him a little so that he could reach back to Merlin’s buttocks, caressing gently before running his finger into the crack, slowly exploring.

“You know, I have to…” he began to stroke his finger over Merlin’s hole, enjoying the way Merlin’s eyes widened at his touch, and the soft sigh of pleasure that he emitted. “If I’m to claim you?”

Merlin nodded eagerly, and that finished any lingering concerns Arthur might have had. But there was something there, sticky and warm and moist. Arthur pulled his hand away, puzzled. “What’s this?” he sniffed at his hand. It smelled sweet, like honey. He almost tasted it, then remembered where he was. “What did they do?” If they’d already taken him, Arthur would kill that stupid posturing faerie king. Merlin was Arthur’s, and nobody took what was Arthur’s.

“They did magic,” Merlin admitted. “When they took me away and you were supposed to be having a competition with their king. They did something, but they didn’t touch me. Not like you mean. It feels sort of… loose, wet… It smells like the honey wine they gave me.”

Honey wine… Arthur tried not to think about it. They’d eased the way for him but he would have liked to explore it himself, watch Merlin jerk and gasp even more than he was already when Arthur breached him with his finger. He was wet and it was easy to stretch him out, adding a second finger what should have been far too quickly. Merlin was gazing up at him adoringly, his eyes dark with arousal, whispering his name like a litany, interspersed with little moans as Arthur probed further, finding that sweet spot deep inside that had Merlin groaning and arching when Arthur touched it.

Arthur’s own cock was straining and leaking against his belly, untouched as yet by his young and inexperienced partner, and for once Arthur didn’t mind. The sight of his lover spread out beneath him was too new, too tantalising. Arthur pushed in a third finger, gently massaging and stretching. Merlin was almost crying at the sensation. So soon after the first orgasm he was probably overwhelmed.

“Do you think you can take me?” Arthur whispered, leaning forward to place kisses on Merlin’s stomach, following the little happy trail down to his cock.

Merlin just nodded. He did try to say something, but it was fairly incomprehensible.

It was all Arthur could do to take it slow. He lined himself up and then sank gratefully into the tight warmth, pausing for a few moments whilst Merlin got used to the new sensation.

“All right?” he checked.

Again that word that didn’t seem to be a word. Arthur moved, thrusting as slowly as he could stand, trying not to give in to the urge to fuck Merlin as hard and fast as he could.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed. “Arthur… Arthur…”

Apparently he wasn’t having any trouble remembering Arthur’s name any more, as Arthur found a rhythm and moved with it, each thrust punctuated by the sound of his name from Merlin’s lips. He reached down to grip Merlin’s cock again, taking hard, firm strokes that had Merlin babbling.

“Please Arthur, more… oh gods… I’m…. please… please…”

And then he was coming over Arthur’s hand, and Merlin’s hole was clenching in tight pulses around his cock, and that was enough to send Arthur over the edge, spilling inside his lover with a cry. Exhausted, Arthur pulled out and collapsed beside him, spent.

Merlin snuggled up close. The flower crown had fallen off, Arthur could see it lying crushed beneath Merlin’s head. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the adoringly loving look that Merlin was directing at him now. A quiet time, just for them. And then tomorrow, Arthur thought, he’d wake up in his own bed with that same sweet face looking at him. Tomorrow, and all the tomorrows to come.

“We should go, before they come back.” It was tempting to stay, but Arthur doubted they’d be left in peace for long. He could have happily lay there with Merlin forever under the green overhanging branches, looking up at the sky. But he had a kingdom to get back to. They both did.

They dressed, or rather Arthur did. The clothing that the faeries had given Merlin was flimsy and almost transparent. It looked as if a slight breeze would blow it away. Arthur was just considering handing over his cloak when there was a sudden burst of familiar giggling and the faeries were back.

Oberon, if it was possible, looked even more self-assured than ever. He’d probably been watching, Arthur thought. Well, let him. He could just regret what he could never have. Merlin was Arthur’s, and nothing could separate them now.

“And so you’ve claimed him, finally, Arthur Pendragon.” Oberon nodded approvingly. “Your kingdom will blossom under your rule now, and be spoken of for millennia, long after you are dust.”

“That’s good to know,” Arthur said dryly. He picked up his cloak. “We’re leaving now.”

“You know, you are both very pretty together,” Oberon continued. “You could stay, and decorate my grove. I could preserve you, little king. Never grow old, never die, just lie here with your pretty mate and play all day while the mortal world you knew shrivels and fades and changes. How does that sound?”

“I’d be bored in a week.” Arthur kept his hand on the kerchief, pressing it close. Merlin had nothing to ground him like that, not even the clothes he’d presumably worn when he arrived. Arthur kept him close, afraid that Oberon would go back on his word. “We’re leaving, as agreed.”

“Ah. No.”

They were suddenly surrounded by more of the little sprite creatures than Arthur could count. All of them were pressing in, threatening. Arthur held up Excalibur, but he doubted he could hold them all off. He would try. He couldn’t lose Merlin again.

“Let us go.” That was Merlin, his voice more of a warning. Gone was the honey wine-drunk slurring of earlier, this was all confidence. And, a moment later, Arthur saw why.

Merlin’s eyes glowed a beautiful gold. He flicked his wrist and the faeries and sprites were swept aside as if they were nothing. The resultant squealing and chattering from them was almost deafening.

“We’ll just leave now, then,” Arthur said more confidently than he felt. It was going to take time to get used to Merlin using his magic openly in front of him. Somehow it had been easier to take when he was sheltered from it, only catching glimpses. But it was a wonderful thing, and all his to command. They would create a powerful, contented kingdom, he and Merlin.

Merlin’s eyes were still glowing. He was like a warrior, a knight, Arthur thought. Still on guard, ready to attack if the fae tried to double-cross them again.

“Which is the way out of here?” Arthur asked. He could see the greed in the way Oberon was looking at Merlin. The sooner they got away the better, before the king thought up another way to keep them there. He could doubtless see Merlin’s power as well as Arthur could.

Puck gestured down the path that led slightly downhill from the glade. “Follow the path until you reach another clearing. There’s a ring. Step into it, and that will take you back. But know that you can never return.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Arthur confirmed.

“I will make an exception for you, Emrys,” Oberon told them.

Arthur felt Merlin move slightly closer to him. “I’m staying with Arthur, thanks.”

Oberon nodded. “For now. But one day, far from now, you may change your mind. You will only have to ask. Time in your mortal world passes quickly here. Remember that, when you find out what you truly are.” And then, once again, the faeries were gone. It had almost stopped being disconcerting. Almost.

What Oberon had said didn’t make sense to Arthur, and from the look on his face it didn’t make sense to Merlin either. Arthur didn’t really want to ponder on it. They were young, they had their whole lifetime ahead of them, and now Merlin was going to be able to use his magic to his full ability, never have to hide it again. Theirs was a glorious future.

“Come on then,” Merlin nudged Arthur’s arm. “Let’s go before they change their mind.” He looked down at himself, then added a little shyly. “Could I borrow your cloak?”

The last thing Arthur wanted was to have Gwaine ogling Merlin’s half-naked body all the way back to Camelot. “Definitely. You’ll frighten the peasants like that!”

“Funny.” But Merlin drew the whisper-thin shirt closer around him. “You’ve got my scarf.”

That scarf had probably saved them both. Blood of his loyal men, it had kept him grounded all this time, stopped him forgetting like Merlin had started to do before Arthur found him.

“Do you need that too?” Arthur asked. “And why did your magic suddenly come back? What’s grounding you?”

“Don’t you know?”

Arthur carefully fastened his cloak around Merlin’s shoulders. “Would I ask if I did?”

Merlin smiled, blushing a little. “It’s you, Arthur. You’re grounding me.” When Arthur frowned, Merlin leaned forward and whispered. “You’re still inside me.”

_Ah._

“We should go quickly before that…wears off or something,” Arthur decided, and headed back up the path, pulling Merlin with him.

The clearing was exactly where Puck had said, though the ring was just a patch of light-coloured grass rather than the clearer ring of mushrooms that had been visible in the mortal world.

“Is this where you came through?” Merlin asked. He crouched down, examining the grass, careful not to touch it and wary of a trick.

“I don’t know. I didn’t take a lot of notice when I first arrived. It was all so different, and Puck had changed… they’re quite ugly in our world.”

“I wonder if we’re like that to them, here?” Merlin mused. “Perhaps not, from what Oberon was saying.”

Arthur looked at the back of Merlin’s neck, his head bent over, still studying the patch of grass. There was a little wayward curl of dark hair that was insisting on sticking out in a totally different direction. He idly wondered how Merlin’s hair was going to look in the morning, tousled after sleep, waking up in Arthur’s bed. Not ugly. Definitely not ugly.

But he wasn’t going to tell Merlin that. He’d never hear the end of it.

Merlin chose that moment to look up at him, and there was that smile again. It was going to undo him, sooner or later, now that things had changed between them, he knew.

“About me, anyway. He wasn’t so keen on you!”

Perhaps things hadn’t changed _that_ much. He’d make Merlin pay for that cheek later. To distract him, Arthur waved impatiently towards the ring.

“Well? Shall we try it? Gaius said we had to go back through together, in case of another trick.” He held out his hand and then when Merlin took it, he pulled him close. “So there’s no risk of us losing each other,” he explained.

Merlin leaned closer, and captured his mouth. “For luck,” he whispered. “Ready?”

Arthur wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready for something as strange as stepping into another world, but he had Merlin in his arms so he thought he could probably face anything. He nodded, and they stepped together into the ring.

\---

Leon rode quietly behind his king, trying to ignore Gwaine’s endless chatter at his side. The pace was slow, because Gaius was never going to be up for racing across the countryside. It gave Leon time to think.

Arthur had been gone for a day and two nights, and most of the following day as well. Gaius had kept assuring them that time passed more quickly in Faerie, but Leon hadn’t liked it at all. His instinct had been to follow, to go after his king and do whatever it took to bring him back. He liked Merlin well enough, but this had been too big a risk just for the life of one servant… one _sorcerer_ , as the others had explained to Percival, Elyan and himself during the long, long wait. Merlin, it seemed, was full of surprises. But Arthur was the king. He shouldn’t have risked himself.

And then, suddenly, Arthur had reappeared with Merlin in his arms, and everything had been right again. Though Merlin was draped in Arthur’s cloak, and although Leon didn’t want to look too closely he only appeared to be wearing some fragile garment made of leaves beneath it. Leon didn’t want to know what had happened. If he never went anywhere near a faerie ring again it would be far too soon.

So he rode along quietly, watching out all the time for any signs of danger, as he always did. He saw the way that Merlin rode alongside Arthur, like an equal, but then that was often the cheeky servant’s way. He saw the way that Merlin looked openly at Arthur as if he’d hung the sun and the moon up especially for Merlin, and that must have been because Arthur had rescued him, and he was suitably grateful.

But he saw the soft, loving expression on Arthur’s face when he gazed back at Merlin, saw how closely they were riding, how often Arthur reached out on some pretext to touch Merlin, how much happier they both looked, and he could see that things had changed, and that Arthur would probably risk his own life a thousand times over for Merlin. For anyone, really, because that was Arthur’s nature. But especially for Merlin. Merlin, who was mirroring Arthur’s expression now.

It was probably none of his business, and if Arthur was happy then so was Leon. So he stayed back, and let Gwaine’s chatter wash over him, still not really listening, and let Arthur and Merlin lead them home.

 


End file.
